


ronsey

by ronanlunch



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:30:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronanlunch/pseuds/ronanlunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ronsey ficlets</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. -

Gansey had only seen Ronan like this once before, and it was not something he would like to revisit. He convinced himself it was fear for his own life, not fear of Ronan’s that made him proceed with such caution, walking towards the silhouette slowly, each move considered, calm, pacifying. Who knew what he had dreamt with him this time.

The pool of blood was dark. Maybe it wasn’t blood at all. Maybe it was just wet.

“Did you find Adam in Cabeswater,” he spoke, half loud. It wasn’t a question. How could it be when he already knew the answer.

The shape he hoped to be his best friend, his brother, stirred slightly at the sound of his voice.

“Gansey,” it whispered, and as Gansey kneeled next to it he saw that it was indeed Ronan. Ronan, red and bloodied and with a gaping hole in his body that should not be there, that should never be there. How did they get here? Where did everything go so miserably wrong?

“How’s Adam?” Gansey tried again, and when Ronan took a breath blood bubbled out of his chest, glistening pieces of meat expanding and contracting in a way Gansey wish he would never have had to see.

“He died,” Ronan replied, his face and voice and everything so neutral, even his gaze didn’t connect with Gansey’s like it used to. “He told me before he killed himself, though. Told me of the list, of your name on it. He’s dead, Gansey. Everyone’s dead. You’re dead too, soon. Eventually.”

Something like guilt flickered over Ronan’s face as he spoke again. “I don’t want to be the only one left, Gansey. I just can’t do that, not even for you.” Gansey wanted to yell, wanted to tell him to stop, wanted to demand that he stayed, that he continued the fight, make Ronan promise that they would see this through together, but he didn’t. Ronan turned his face away, not daring to look at his king as he plunged the knife into his chest once more.


	2. things you said after you kissed me

“Awake?” Ronan’s voice is sounding from the direction of his room and if you turn you can vaguely make out his silhouette in the doorway, black on black on black. He doesn’t wait for your reply, just moves closer as he hears you stirring, sheets rustling and eyelashes fanning softly against skin.

“Can’t sleep?” you whisper into the darkness as you can sense him closer. He scoffs, the sound coming from somewhere to the left of you and you turn against it, your eyes searching for him in the nothingness.

“Nightmare,” he replies, and you can feel the weight as his body settles on your mattress, and you can feel the weight as his presence settles in your soul. The humming in the back of your mind stops and there’s calmness.

He curls up on top of the blanket, just a little bit closer than last time. You don’t know how you know, you just know. Maybe the heat radiating through the blanket is stronger. Maybe you’re just more aware.

“What’s keeping you awake, golden boy?”

Shock flows through your cells at the proximity of the voice as he speaks, but the waves feel good, remind you that you exist in relation to others. Perhaps you’re not alone.

If you try hard enough you can feel the tip of his nose against the tip of your nose. There is no avoiding the breath ghosting against your face.

“Thoughts of improbability. Impossibility.” Your voice fills the space between you but there’s a pause and it stretches, waiting, and you make a fool of yourself cause when there’s a quiet it’s your job to break it.

“I just want to change the world.” The laugh is quiet, bitter, self-deprecating in your chest. “Only. I know. But I need to do something, I need to give something back.”

You wait for the sarcastic remark, the hyena’s cackle, but instead you get warm, dry lips against your own, sending heat down your limbs for the short, precious moments it happens.

“Impossible? Nah man, you’ve already changed mine.”


End file.
